The Thaw
by CatS81
Summary: During a winter's night stake-out, Grace's conversation with Boyd takes a turn for the intimate... ;
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Waking the Dead' or any of its characters, the BBC has that honour – I'm just taking them out to play for a bit.

**Pairing**: Boyd/Grace.

**Rating**: Hmm. Well, this was original intended as an MA-rated, PWP…and it may still turn into that…but for the time being, this chapter will be rated T; for language.

**Spoilers**: Nothing specific. But I guess this is set between S8 and S9, after Kat has left the Unit but before Sarah joins.

**A/N**: With gracious thanks to Joodiff for the idea (though I don't think I'm even remotely doing it justice!)…and to Shadowsamurai83 and Gemenied just because :) I'm so very glad to have met the three of you!

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><p>"Tell me again what the hell I'm doing here?"<p>

Grace Foley shivered beneath the raspberry check of her winter coat as she stepped out of the bitter gale and into the small wooden hut, pulling the thick woven wool tighter about her slender frame and frowning irritably at the structure's sole occupant. She had received a hurried phone call two hours previously, asking her to come to the woods and despite protesting strongly to the prospect of an evening spent out of doors in the depths of winter she had eventually, grudgingly agreed and set off in her car, her heart sinking further with every mile she drove away from her house and its comforting warmth. Her mood had deteriorated immeasurably as she had parked up and begun to walk in the direction in which she had been instructed, the bare branches of the surrounding trees swaying ominously in the inky blackness at every turn, and by the time she reached her destination she was chilled to the core of her bones and thoroughly annoyed. _Damn him_, she thought testily. _Why does he always think he can just snap his fingers and I'll jump to order…?_

Peter Boyd looked up from his seated position and gave her a wry smile, the electric lamp at his side casting flickering angular shadows across his features. "Good evening to you, too."

She sighed, fighting a powerful urge to roll her eyes. "Seriously, Boyd…."

"Take a seat, Grace."

The psychologist held his gaze for a second longer before releasing her breath in resignation and moving to sit beside him, wondering briefly at the lack of seating before being instantly grateful for the haphazardly scattered blankets he had arranged on the ground to stave off the cold. She grimaced as she surveyed the cramped conditions of their surroundings and drew her knees defensively up to her chest.

"Couldn't Eve have built anything bigger?"

He grinned as he turned his head to face her. "Not claustrophobic, are you?"

"No, but…."

"It's fit for purpose. I didn't want anything too conspicuous."

Grace raised an amused eyebrow. "Well, it's certainly not that."

He grunted. "Did you bring the files?"

She reached into her bag and retrieved the overflowing manila folders to which he referred, placing them immediately onto his knees in lieu of a table and stifling another sigh. "I still don't see why we couldn't have done this in the office."

Boyd exhaled noisily. "Because we ran out of time; you _know_ that."

"Yes, well…perhaps we should have _made_ time. I'm too old to be sitting in a draughty contraption that looks like it resembles a twitcher's hide."

"Look, you don't have to stay for long, alright? I just want to go through the profiles and then you're free to get off."

"What, and leave you here by yourself all night?"

"I'm not by myself. Spence and the lackey he's roped in from CID are the other side of the site in a similar draughty contraption."

Grace drew her coat further about her body as a biting wind whipped through the observation slit in front of them almost on cue. "God. Who's the lucky man?"

Boyd grinned. "Woman, Grace. You don't really think Spence would choose to be holed up a close quarters with another man, do you?"

The profiler rolled her eyes. "How on earth did he persuade a woman to do it?"

"Oh, God knows; probably promised her dinner…or more likely an all-nighter of a slightly more romantic variety."

She nudged him with her shoulder. "Behave."

His smile widened. "It wouldn't be out of character, would it?"

The profiler shrugged, their upper arms connecting once more. "He's a free agent, Boyd."

"We'll just skirt over the whole issue of professional integrity, shall we?"

"Probably best."

Boyd took a breath, his professionalism falling rapidly back into place as he addressed her. "Can we go over the profiles, then? I need to know what kind of person or persons would come back to a site like this."

Grace squared her shoulders mentally and nodded, the reason for her presence in the hut instantly reasserting itself. "Okay….As you know, the site of a murder is a powerful one psychologically, it has a lot of draw for a killer, particularly a pathological one such as the individual who I think we're dealing with here."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Arm-chair psychology, Grace. What else?"

She looked at him in exasperation. "He's not a book, Boyd. You know damn well that I'm basing all of this on past cases, research statistics et cetera."

"I just need to know if he's going to show up, that's all, and how he'll behave if he does."

"You're asking me if he'll bring another victim here."

"Essentially. I want to know if a three-handed stake-out was a realistic move or a completely naïve one."

"Which is exactly why we should've had this conversation in the office. The nice, warm office, I might add."

He groaned loudly. "Cut me some slack, Grace."

"I've been doing that for close to ten years, Boyd. My patience is starting to wear thin."

"I just need a yes-no answer: is he likely to bring another girl here tonight or not?"

Grace threw up her hands, catching him accidentally on the shoulder. "It's not as straightforward as that. Human beings aren't that definitive, as well you know."

"But you definitely think he'll turn up in some capacity or other, even if it's just to check the site again?"

She shrugged. "If he's as pathological, as obsessive as he appears to be then he'll need the kill site to be perfect. If it's not he won't be able to do it; simple as that."

He gave her a lop-sided grin. "Criminal psychology for beginners?"

Grace was unable to prevent a returning smile. "It's nursery school stuff."

"Christ, you know where to punch me where it hurts, Grace."

She rolled her eyes and nudged him anew, the teasing sarcasm lacing his tone causing a further thaw in her mood. "Shut up."

His grin broadened. "Is that it, then?

"What?"

"That the extent of your input on this?"

"On the killer? Yes." She gave a long-suffering smile at his reactive groan. "But like we discussed before, because of the media attention it's possible you might get other people showing up here as well, people who get a kick out of investigating a murder scene."

He grimaced. "At eleven p.m.?"

"It's possible. As we've seen over the years, nothing piques the interest of certain members of the public like murder."

"Great. So a three person stake-out was definitely an idiotic idea."

Grace raised an eyebrow. "Not to mention a complete breach of Met guidelines."

He gave her a sideways glance. "Don't start with the lectures, Grace."

She ignored him. "I always thought you had to do stake-outs in pairs."

"I made an overriding executive decision."

"Ah," she said mildly, realisation flooding her tone. "Meaning you couldn't find any willing female officers to shack up with you; is that it?"

He grinned boyishly. "None that could make it at such short notice, at any rate."

Grace shook her head and tutted in mock disapproval. "You're pathetic."

"I am," he agreed, smiling. "But at least I know it."

She returned his smile briefly, ignoring the odd constriction that lanced across her chest at his words. "What are you going to do if you doze off?"

"Keep setting an alarm for every ten minutes."

"Seriously?"

"Well, what else?"

She held his gaze for a long moment before sighing heavily and shifting beside him to more comfortably arrange her limbs. _I'm going to regret this_, she thought ruefully. _I just know it…._ Aloud, she said, "Pour me some tea and pass me a blanket, would you?"

Boyd raised his eyebrows in astonishment as his eyes tracked her movement, his mind acknowledging the intent behind her actions. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?"

He shook his head emphatically. "You don't need to do this, Grace. I'll be fine."

"We'll work in shifts," she said firmly, reaching across him to retrieve a soft fleece blanket from the pile at his side and arranging it carefully across her legs. "That way, each of us stands at least a partial chance of getting some sleep."

"Forget it," he replied bluntly. "You're not a copper, Grace, and I don't want to be responsible if something happens."

She grinned. "Well, at least that was more polite than drawing attention to my age."

"I could do that too, you know. Don't think I wouldn't stoop to it."

"Oh, I'm sure you would."

"So, go home then, before I have to."

She shook her head. "Just pour me some tea, Boyd, and stop trying to pick a fight."

He groaned loudly, fully aware that he was beaten, and turned briefly away from her to pour two mugs of steaming tea from the flask on the ground beside him, his fingers brushing hers gently as he handed her the offering. "Don't complain about getting cold…," he warned gruffly.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"….Or about getting a numb arse."

Grace chuckled. "I'll keep it to myself."

"And don't think this is a perfect opportunity to get me to open up, Grace. I refuse to spend the whole night being psychoanalysed."

She held up a placating palm. "Fine. Anything else?"

"Yeah: no dribbling on my shoulder if you fall asleep."

Laughter bubbled out of her and filled the small space between them, her heart lightening as he followed suit and for several moments their combined mood was one of jovial elation before they gradually sobered once more.

Boyd turned to look at her, his dark eyes suddenly serious as he spoke. "You need to promise me you'll stay put if anything happens. I mean it."

Grace smiled fondly at the intensity of his concern. "I'm nearly sixty-five, Boyd. I'm unlikely to go charging through the woods in the dark after a suspect, now, am I?"

"Just promise me."

"I promise. Just so long as you promise to keep the heroics to a minimum, should an applicable situation arise."

He gestured dismissively. "I know my limits, Grace…."

"Do you?"

"…and I've got absolutely every intention of leaving any pursuits up to Spence, if I can help it."

"Good."

"The beatings, of course, I can do myself."

She elbowed him gently in the ribs. "That's not funny, given your track record."

"This man has murdered four girls that we know of, Grace…."

"So beating him senseless would be justified, would it?"

"I'm sure I could wrap it up as self-defence."

Grace rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Stop trying to wind me up."

He grinned boyishly. "I'm not."

"Ten years we've been doing this back-and-forth thing, Boyd. It's so ingrained it's almost a default position."

"Oh, come on; you get as much of a kick out of it as I do."

"Ah; so you're admitting you do it for kicks, then?"

"Well, not always."

"But sometimes?"

"Of course. And don't try to deny you do the same."

She shrugged. "Mostly I'm just trying to get you to see things from a different perspective."

"But you always do it in a Devil's Advocate kind of a way that drives me crazy."

Grace raised a wry eyebrow. "Works though, doesn't it?"

He exhaled derisively. "It does not."

"It does, Boyd. You may not always agree with the alternative opinion but at least I get you thinking about it."

His scowl deepened, though his tone was mild. "Just…drink your tea and keep your unfounded theories to yourself, will you?"

She grinned widely and took a long draw from her mug before toasting him sardonically and surveying him once more. "Happy now?"

He grunted, giving her a sideways glance. "Do you really want to go down that road, Grace?"

"Should I save it for the early hours instead?"

"No," he said firmly, turning his head to look at her intently. "Don't tell me you're already planning on breaking the no psychoanalysis rule?"

Grace raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who mentioned happiness, Boyd…which tells me that unconsciously you actually _do_ want to talk about it."

"It's overrated…."

"Happiness or psychoanalysis?"

"Take your bloody pick."

She shook her head slightly. "You don't really mean that…."

"Don't I?"

"Well, we'll agree to differ over the psychoanalysis…but happiness is a fundamental human desire, Boyd. We're all striving to get there and…."

"I don't know if that's true, you know. I think most people just stumble blindly through life without even really considering whether or not they're happy."

Grace inclined her head in acknowledgment. "There may be some truth to that."

"And then by the time you _do_ realise you're miserable it's too late to do anything about it."

"That's a bloody depressing way to look at the world."

"It's accurate, though. You wake up one day and suddenly you're pushing sixty, you're hurtling towards retirement and it's like…looking into the abyss."

She blinked, her chest suddenly awash with sadness as she looked at him. "You're serious? That's honestly how you feel about the prospect of retiring?"

He shrugged and took a sip from his mug before speaking again. "I can't imagine not working….It's…completely alien to me."

"It's not on the immediate horizon, though, is it?"

"I'm already past the thirty-year mark. I think the only reason I've been allowed to continue is because we're hidden in the dungeon where no-one can see."

"Well, that and…," she broke off and sighed. "You're bloody good at your job, Boyd."

He grinned crookedly and turned to face her. "Am I?"

"You know you are."

"Despite the unorthodox methodologies, the use of…physical coercion…?"

"I don't condone it but…ultimately you care deeply about justice and that fact exonerates you most of the time. I mean, yes, you take it to extremes but only because seeing justice done for the victims of these crimes is so central to your moral universe."

"Right…."

"Ah; you're worried that once you retire your life will have no meaning?"

He sighed deeply, the extent of her perceptiveness not at all surprising him. "Something like that."

"Alright…so maybe over the next few years you need to work on building a focus outside of your work…."

"In terms of what?"

"Perhaps…re-establishing familial relationships, getting back in touch with friends…." She broke off and drew a breath, fighting the increasing discomfort twisting painfully in her stomach as she considered her proceeding words. "I don't know, Boyd…finding a woman?"

He blew out his breath and allowed his head to drop back against the solid wood of the wall behind him, his eyes closing briefly. "Some bloody hope of that."

"Why?"

"Jesus, Grace," he grimaced. "Do you really need me to list the reasons?"

"You see, you're sabotaging yourself from the off, there."

"Why? Because I'm more than aware of how utterly crap I am with members of the opposite sex?"

"Oh, come on," she scoffed lightly. "You're not trying to tell me there's been a shortage of available women lining up at your door over the years?"

"I'm not exactly beating them off with a stick, Grace."

"But you probably could be if you wanted to. That's what I'm saying."

"What; that I need to…open myself to the possibility?"

"Yeah."

"And a few months, a few years down the line when I eventually get around to telling them that I'm divorced, that I had an affair, that I've never been able to maintain a successful relationship with a woman….What then?"

Grace shrugged, deliberately injecting a casual note to her voice. "Well…if she loves you…she'll be able to look past all that, won't she?"

"Will she?"

"Of course; and it's not as if all of us don't come with baggage, Boyd. Especially by the time you get to our age."

He groaned and ran a hand across his features. "Oh, Grace….I'm just not sure I've got the energy for it, you know? Meeting someone, getting to know them, all that pissing about while you work out if it's what you really want…and then for it all to go down the pan because I say or do something stupid that seals my fate just when I'm starting to feel…whatever it is I'm meant to feel in that situation."

"But again, Boyd, you're making that fatalistic assumption that it _will_ all go down the pan."

"I'm just basing it on years of bitter experience."

"You're not the same person you were when you got married all those years ago. God, you're not even the same person as you were during your relationship with Sarah….and there's absolutely no reason at all why you couldn't make something work with someone new."

"I wouldn't just be doomed to repeat the same mistakes again?"

"Not if you're aware of those mistakes and why you made them."

He exhaled noisily. "I can't help thinking that uncomplicated casual sex would be a hell of a lot simpler than all of this deep-and-meaningful crap."

Grace rolled her eyes though her features softened into a smile. "But not as fulfilling in the long run."

"Speak for yourself."

"In the long run, Boyd," she repeated firmly. "I'm not talking about a few minutes of stress relief, I'm talking about a lasting…."

"A few minutes?"

She elbowed him sharply at the teasing lilt to his voice. "Grow up."

"I'm serious. Sex was the one thing I was actually good at in my relationships, Grace, so it makes sense for me to…."

"What? Forgo the rest of it? Closeness, intimacy, companionship…?"

"You can get all of that with sex, can't you?"

"Yes; but, in my experience, only when there are actual feelings involved. Otherwise it's just physical and…."

"Oh, right; and for women, sex always transcends the physical, is that it?" His tone was scathing.

"Well, not always; and I can't speak for all women."

"For you?"

She turned her head to look at him, electricity flickering through her veins at the suddenly soft edge to his voice, the almost unreadable expression hidden in the depths of his obsidian eyes, the intimate turn in the direction of their conversation. "Most of the time," she answered carefully. "Though I was married for close to fifteen years…and as you can imagine not every encounter throughout that time was all about emotional attachment."

He grinned mischievously. "Sometimes it was just for the sake of it?"

"We had three small kids, Boyd….Sometimes it was just a matter of finding a spare couple of minutes and space to ourselves."

He laughed loudly. "So all that bullshit about intimacy and closeness…."

"You can still have intimacy and closeness…."

"During a quickie? Give me a break, Grace."

"It's all about context, Boyd. In the context of a loving relationship, even something like that can help re-establish your bond."

He was quiet for several moments, allowing her words to filter through his consciousness before giving a conciliatory grunt. "Well….unsurprisingly, I bow to your superior knowledge on the subject."

"Hm," she replied sardonically. "Nice to know the extra years have given me an edge in certain areas, then."

He laughed. "Just what are you admitting to here, Grace?"

She held up a hand in the flickering darkness. "Absolutely nothing. I've probably already said too much as it is."

"A psychologist saying too much? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?"

Grace yawned loudly, deliberately. "I'm not getting drawn into this in the middle of the night."

"Coward. Just when things were getting interesting."

"I'm struggling to keep my eyes open, Boyd. Keeping my brain engaged properly is a step too far."

He smiled, relenting instantly beneath the genuine weariness of her tone. "Go to sleep, then."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll wake you in a couple of hours."

She smiled gratefully and settled herself back against the wall of the shelter, pulling the blanket further up her body in an attempt to banish the icy tendrils of winter air from seeping into her skin, her heart undeniably warmed by the solid closeness of his body, the comforting sensation of his outer thigh pressed flush against hers. Within seconds she could feel herself drifting serenely towards unconsciousness, the rhythmical cadence of his breathing providing a reassuring contrast to the disquieting stillness that pervaded the rest of the black night.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer, Pairing & Spoilers**: See chapter 1.

**Rating**: Most definitely MA; for explicit sexual situations. Definitely adults only please!

**A/N**: Well, I've finally done it – this chapter marks my first attempt at PWP…and it may well be my last as I'm not really sure it's my bag….Anyways, please be warned that this is sexually explicit so please don't read on if you're likely to be offended. Thanks, all, hope this isn't too excruciating! :S

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><p>Boyd jerked suddenly awake, his heart pounding in panic against his ribcage as he fumbled shakily for his mobile phone, relief flooding him as he noted the time glowing peacefully from the luminous display. <em>Ten past seven. I couldn't have been asleep for longer than five minutes. Thank Christ. <em>He took a deep cleansing breath and blinked rapidly, willing his exhausted body back to full alertness, grimacing as his joints stubbornly resisted his attempts to shift position. _ God, I'm too old for this_, he thought darkly, wincing at the shooting pains that fired hotly through his back. _Far too fucking old to be sat on the frozen ground all night waiting for some fucking nutcase to show up and….Oh, Christ. _He felt his irritation leave him in a sudden rush as his companion stirred quietly beside him, his heart warming with unabashed sentimentality as he looked down at her. In the throes of unconsciousness her head had become nestled against his shoulder and her arm had slipped through his, their fingers easily intertwining as she presumably fought to keep warm in lieu of her own awareness. He had put up no resistance to her movements, the notion that her actions seemed entirely natural initially concerning him but as the hours had worn on and he had found himself with no inclination to wake her, he had finally accepted the inevitable: that the proximity of her body, the softness of her hand in his, the gentle timbre of her breathing had combined to produce a deeply pleasant experience, one from which he was in no hurry to escape from.

"You cold?" he asked softly as her eyes flickered open, his features creasing into a smile as he observed the initial confusion at her environment cascade across her face, a slight frown marring her forehead as she lifted her cheek an inch from his shoulder.

"A bit," she mumbled hoarsely, the last remnants of sleep coating her vocal chords as she struggled to force herself to wakefulness.

His smile broadened fondly as he used his free hand to reach for another blanket, enveloping both of their bodies in its downy softness and tucking one of the edges closely about her shoulder. "Alright?"

"Mm," she intoned wordlessly, groaning in discomfort as her mind registered the dull stiffness pervading her muscles. "How long was I asleep?"

"About six hours."

"What?" she exclaimed in surprise, lifting her head fully to look at him. "Why didn't you wake me?"

He shrugged. "What can I say, Grace? I thought at your age you could do with the kip more than me."

She ignored the teasing barb. "So you've been awake all night?"

"Well…I may have dozed off once or twice but, yeah. Essentially."

Grace took a breath to reprimand him further but felt herself falter as her mind suddenly registered the reality of their conjoined hands beneath the blankets, the feel of his thumb tracing infinitesimal circles across her skin. _Oh my God….What…?_ "Boyd?" she queried aloud, clearing her throat to assuage the husk that had unexpectedly infiltrated her voice.

"What?"

She raised their unified hands in question, the layers of blankets shifting against the movement. He shrugged casually and leant back against the wooden wall, pulling her back with him as he replied, "Oh, that. That was all you."

"Are you serious?"

He tutted in mock disapproval and allowed his eyes to drift closed. "You don't think I'd take advantage of a sleeping woman, do you?"

"I….I must have been trying to keep warm."

"You must have been."

Grace sighed. "Look…I obviously wasn't aware of what I was doing but…I'm sorry."

He chuckled softly, incredulously. "Grace…do you really think we'd still be sitting like this if I had a problem with it?"

"Well…."

"Of course we wouldn't."

She frowned, trying desperately to ignore the butterflies that had begun to dance in her stomach, the hint of something entirely more primal flickering lower as his thumb continued to caress her hand with ever-increasing determination. _What the hell is going on here?_ She wondered in confusion, even as she felt her pulse begin to quicken beneath her skin. _I fall asleep for a few hours and in that time he's what? Had an epiphany? Had the fog lifted from his eyes at last? What? God, I can't make head or tail of this…._

She took a deep breath and attempted to steer the conversation back towards the professional, despite the continuing intimate position of their bodies. "I take it there's been no sign of our suspect, then?"

Boyd shook his head without opening his eyes. "None whatsoever."

Grace felt her frown deepen at his tone. "You sound remarkably calm about it, Boyd. Especially given that an appearance is unlikely now it's starting to get light."

"It was always going to be a long-shot, Grace. It's like you said: there weren't any guarantees."

"Still…I really thought he'd show up. I might have to have a re-think on that profile."

"Whatever you think," he replied mildly. "Anyway…I've messaged Spence and told him to go home."

"Should we follow suit?"

He opened his eyes slowly and gave her a lop-sided grin. "You don't fancy watching the sunrise, then?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "What's got _into_ you?"

"Nothing."

"Right; so you're just suggesting we stay huddled under this blanket…holding hands for the next hour?" Grace exhaled forcefully, confusion lancing painfully through her chest. "We don't do that kind of thing, Boyd. We never have."

"No, I know that. But right now I can't think of a single reason why not."

"You're joking. Or delirious from lack of sleep; one of the two."

"Or neither of the above." He sighed heavily. "Look, Grace, do we have to over-analyse? Can't we just….God, I don't know…exist in the moment or some other equally made-up-sounding phrase?"

She turned her head to look at him, astounded by the intense sincerity radiating from his charcoal eyes, and at once it required a monumental effort to keep her breathing on an even keel. "Alright," she acquiesced softly, unable to prevent a smile from playing across her lips as he squeezed her hand anew.

They sat in a companionable silence for several moments, their fingers alternately separating and interlacing as they explored the texture, the landscape of each other's hand, and Grace felt her breath catch in her chest at the undeniably sensuous experience, his skin warm and surprisingly soft beneath hers. Without conscious thought she allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder, thrills rippling through her body as she felt him press his lips gently to her hair.

"Boyd?" she murmured in question, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried desperately not to break the spell that seemed to have descended over them like a cloak.

"What?" he replied, his answer muffled against the silken strands of her hair.

"Don't you think we should…?"

"Don't say 'talk'," he groaned with frustration.

"I just…."

"Grace," he intoned wearily. "I've had six hours while you were sleeping with the same thoughts circling incessantly round my head…and quite frankly I'm sick of analysing it all. I don't need you to start down the same path."

She sighed heavily. "I'm not talking about analysing…."

He raised his head to level a sceptical look at her. "Oh no?"

"I just want to know what this is all about." She blew out her breath. "Jesus, Boyd; only six hours ago we were discussing…."

"I know what we were discussing."

"So…?"

"So maybe things are finally starting to fall into place."

She frowned, sitting up straighter and turning her head to look at him, a sense of dread beginning to settle heavily across her stomach. "What you were saying last night…about uncomplicated casual sex…?"

He reached up with his free hand to touch her face, his fingers cupping her jawline as his thumb caressed tender circles across her cheek. "You don't honestly think that could apply to you?"

"I don't know, Boyd. Before last night I didn't think any of it could."

He sighed. "After you went to sleep…I couldn't stop thinking about what you'd said, about the prospect of…starting again….and all that stuff I said about not being bothered with finding someone new, building a relationship…."

"It's not true?"

"It's completely true." He expelled his breath forcefully, self-directed irritation beginning to stir hotly in his gut at his inability to express himself. "I don't want someone new, Grace."

Grace felt her pulse quicken sharply at the implication behind his words and she fought to maintain an even tone as she murmured, "So what do you want?"

He leant forward slowly, his eyes locking firmly to hers as his hand continued to stroke her face, his fingers moving to trace the helix of her ear, the soft hair at the nape of her neck. "Jesus Christ," he breathed softly, his chest swelling as he watched her eyes flicker closed, her head tilting to allow him closer access in his exploration. "I've been so fucking blind."

She smiled crookedly, unable to prevent a small gasp from escaping her lips as his fingers found a tender spot beneath her hairline, the gentle pressure enough to send a frisson of electricity blistering through her veins. "Have you?"

He chuckled softly, even as he began to close the remaining inches between them. "Totally and completely."

"Hm. I could have told you that years ago."

"Grace?"

"What?"

"That's enough talking."

She smiled brilliantly as his mouth descended upon hers, his lips moving gently against her in several tender kisses, and she felt her heart threaten to explode through her chest at the merest hint of his tongue against her lower vermilion, her mouth opening readily to accept him. Within seconds they were equally lost in the sensory overload, their tongues darting, tasting, the invisible barriers that had previously existed between them melting suddenly, dramatically away. Grace moaned hotly against him as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth, the friction of his teeth magnifying the ferocious passion as he hungrily devoured her, her breathing constricted to short pants as she surrendered to their mutually spiralling arousal. She was utterly compliant as he pushed her gently back onto the ground, the feel of the frozen soil through the blankets in sharp contrast to the steadily increasing temperature of her body as he continued to kiss her deeply, thoroughly, expertly. His hand had moved to the buttons of her coat, his nimble fingers deftly releasing her from the thick wool as his palm slid instantly to her breast, a low growl of frustration rumbling across the breadth of his chest as he tried to caress her through the layers of her clothing. She arched against him, gasping as his hand moved swiftly beneath her top and slipped inside her bra, his fingers artfully kneading the generous handful of sensitive flesh before his thumb brushed her nipple, the sensation intensifying the electricity that danced along her nerve-endings and settled edgily in her lower abdomen.

He pulled back to look at her then, even as his hand persisted in its worship of her breast, at once enraptured by the beautiful flush pervading her cheeks in the glimmer of morning sunlight, the full, open lips, the deep sapphire eyes flickering open even as he continued to observe her.

"What?" she asked huskily, the question rapidly becoming a groan as he bent to kiss her anew, sucking her tongue fervently into his mouth and swallowing her throaty sighs of pleasure.

"You're gorgeous," he replied simply, his voice edged roughly with arousal as his lips moved to claim her neck, nipping and sucking as he forged a passionate path to her collar bone, his palm slipping to caress the soft skin of her stomach. _Why the fuck has it taken me until now to fully realise that?_

She was unable to prevent a short sob from escaping her lips at his admission, unbridled joy leaping through her heart and completely obliterating every bitter disappointment, every shattered hope, every self-destructive sentiment that she had previously, darkly nurtured in relation to Peter Boyd. _Oh Christ, I want you; I've wanted you for so long…._Her exclamation was instantly transformed into a pleasured groan as his hand reached her skirt, his impatience clear as he fought to push the swathes of material above her hips and she chuckled softly as he swore against her neck in frustration.

"A thick skirt and tights, Grace? Are you trying to drive me out of my mind?"

She laughed again; richly, huskily. "Well, I wasn't planning on getting out of them. At least not until I reached the warmth of my bedroom."

He grinned wolfishly. "I can stop if you like."

She looked at him for a long moment then, absorbing the wide dilation of his pupils, the ragged, shallow inhalations of his breathing, and she felt a sudden, griping sensation of disbelief pervade her stomach, waves of uncertainty, of self-consciousness threatening to crush her chest. _What the hell are we doing…?_ "Boyd…," she intoned shakily.

He frowned, instantly catching her reticence, the flicker of insecurity across the surface of her eyes and he forced away a surge of frustration at the interruption to his actions. "Do you not want to do this?"

"It's not that," she sighed, the fire in her gut beginning to subside slightly as she pondered her preceding words, guilt leaping into her throat as she watched him struggle for supremacy against his base physical instincts. "We've…been skirting around the edges of this for so long…."

"Ah; and you're wondering 'why now?'?"

Grace blew out her breath incredulously. "Why now? Why here? Take your pick."

He sighed heavily and settled himself beside her, his head coming to rest against his palm as his elbow found purchase on the ground. "To be honest…I'm not sure I can answer either of those questions…and if I told you I'd had a revelation whilst sitting here in the dark all night I don't think you'd believe me."

"What are we talking about here exactly?" she asked softly.

"Just…a realisation, I think. I meant it when I said I'd been blind, Grace."

"In real terms though, Peter….I was serious when I said I'm not into casual sex."

He smiled impishly. "Did you actually say that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not in so many words but…."

He silenced her with a gentle kiss, a tender brush of his lips across hers. "It could never be about that with you."

"And yet here we are on the verge…." She broke off and sighed, rubbing a hand roughly across her face.

"You don't really think that, do you? That this would just have been a quick shag…?"

"I don't….Boyd…," she faltered before taking a deep, steadying breath, frustrated by her sudden and uncharacteristic inability to vocalise her sentiments. "It's been a long time since I've done this…."

"It's not important." He slid closer once more and ran his hand up her arm to squeeze her shoulder. "Grace, I want you…."

"…and it's _you_, Peter….I'm just trying to get my head around it all."

"What do you want me to say?" he sighed, a slight note of irritation creeping into his tone. "I can't wax lyrical with words, you _know_ that."

"I just…."

"Grace," he interrupted wearily. "I meant it before when I said I didn't want to over-analyse."

"But you never actually got around to telling me what it is you _do_ want."

"Alright," he answered, his voice falling instantly into a lower register, the resultant resonance through the bones of his chest causing her to gasp slightly as his hand moved to trace sensual circles across her abdomen. "Right now I want to pick up where we left off. I want to get you out of those damn tights. I want…."

"And after that?" Her voice was soft, doubt still lingering at the base of her skull despite the increasingly erratic direction of her thoughts.

"After that…I want to take you home to bed…."

"Peter…."

"And I never want you to leave."

She took a shuddering breath at his admission, ecstasy reverberating through her soul, her residual uncertainty regarding his intentions at once obliterated by the combination of his words and the feel of his mouth against hers. She groaned unashamedly as his tongue moved possessively over hers, a sense of liberation filling her as his hand returned to her skirt, slipping beneath the heavy material and teasing the waistband of her tights, encouraging her to raise her hips as he rolled the silken material down her legs. He gave a guttural moan as his fingers moved between her legs, caressing her through the saturated satin of her underwear.

Grace gasped breathlessly as he slid beneath the final layer of clothing, stroking her with insistent determination as he moved to kiss her anew, their ardent passion heightening with each deftly expert movement of his fingers, a whispered expletive escaping her lips and amusing him as he easily slid two digits inside her.

"Boyd…," she ground out desperately, the persistent thrusts of his fingers further tightening the delicious coil of tension between her legs, searing tendrils of pleasure spiralling from her centre and igniting every nerve-ending on their path.

He grinned against her mouth as he felt her begin to tremble, a powerful sense of triumph filling his chest. "Yes, Grace?"

She reached down to grip his wrist, halting his movements despite the powerful protests of her body. "Don't," she managed huskily, whimpering with pleasure as he easily twisted from her grasp and continued to caress her, the rhythmical motions of his fingers repeatedly connecting with her deeply, intimately, and she was unable to prevent her hips from moving in counterpoint against him.

"You want me to stop?" he murmured throatily, smiling as he watched her chase the elusive prize, the flickers of intense bliss across her features alternating with frustration as she sought to capture the sensation that was evidently just out of her grasp.

"I want….Peter…," she groaned, willing herself to focus as she reached for him, satisfaction swelling in her chest as she felt him shiver, his breathing increasingly shallow as her fingers traced the angular lines of his erection, the straining hardness beneath the smooth material of his trousers.

He gave a proprietary growl as she stroked him with increasing determination, indulging himself in her touch for a brief moment before forcing her hand away, his fingers moving to his belt to undo the buckle before hastily urging his trousers and underwear southwards, a heady groan escaping his lips as her fingers immediately encircled him.

"Jesus, Grace," he managed hoarsely, the friction of her ministrations catapulting agonising shockwaves through his body, his entire being focussed on a desperate desire to possess her and he caught her wrist once more, his superior strength easily overpowering her as his body moved atop hers, his mouth moving to capture her lips anew.

With a shift of his hips he positioned himself at her entrance, pausing fractionally to look at her, his heart rate accelerating as he caught the wild fire dancing in her expressive eyes, the deep flush decorating her cheeks. "Alright?" he asked softly, a need for confirmation tugging at his gut despite the almost overwhelming craving for her body, the intense yearning to drive himself inside her.

She nodded wordlessly, her universe contracting in an instant to the deep ache between her legs, the feel of his straining hardness pressed insistently against her and she stretched up to kiss him passionately, moaning unashamedly into his mouth as he slid gently inside her, his tenderness as he allowed her to adjust to him overwhelming her with warmth.

Within moments he had established a steady yet electrifying rhythm, his palm reaching for her breast as his mouth devoured hers, mutual groans lost as their tongues duelled effortlessly, her body arching from the ground as his thumb brushed roughly against her nipple. She gasped breathlessly as his lips grazed her neck, the friction of his goatee against her skin heightening the overwhelming sensations arcing through her body from her centre and she felt herself catapulting unerringly towards release.

"Close," she whispered shakily, feeling him grunt throatily in response, his hand moving from her breast to the juncture of her thighs, his fingers stroking her expertly, dextrously and she was unable to prevent a pleasured cry as her body convulsed around him, shattering exquisitely beneath his ministrations, waves of ecstasy crashing through her nerve-endings and leaving her heart beating furiously against her ribcage.

She gasped as she felt him hurtle over the edge in her wake, her name roaring from his lips as he released himself into her liquid heat, his chest heaving against her as he enthusiastically rode the crest of his high, the weight of his body warming her as he dropped his face into the crook of her shoulder. Momentarily he rolled to her side, pulling her against him and pressing his lips to her hair, his breathing still ragged as he revelled in the pervading heat that seared his veins.

"Jesus Christ, Grace," he breathed almost reverently into the stillness after several moments had passed, each of them slowly returning to equilibrium. "Remind me again why we haven't done that before?"

She smiled broadly against his chest, happiness radiating from every pore of her body, the sense of incredulity at their uncharacteristic actions magnifying intently but settling more comfortably across her chest as he encouraged her closer. "No idea," she drawled softly.

"Honestly. Think of all the opportunities we've missed…."

"When we should have been working, you mean?"

He groaned. "Is this where you start lecturing me about appropriate behaviour during work hours?"

She patted his chest affectionately. "Give me a chance, Boyd."

"Oh, God. Don't think this gives you carte blanche, you know, because it most certainly does not."

Grace rolled her eyes. "Whatever lets you sleep at night."

He yawned loudly, exhaustion suddenly catching up with him as he luxuriated in the feel of her body enveloped in his arms. "Talking of which…."

"Oh no, Boyd," she protested firmly. "I'm far too old to be sleeping on the ground…."

"We have blankets," he murmured hazily against her hair, the siren call of unconsciousness pulling him ever closer to the edge.

"I thought you were taking me home to bed."

"Just need half an hour, Grace…."

"Right…."

"You've worn me out."

She laughed softly before sobering, a frown flickering briefly across her forehead as a nagging doubt tugged incessantly at her mind. _I need to be sure about this…._ "Boyd?"

"Hm?"

"What you said before…about not wanting me to leave…?"

"What about it?"

"Did you mean it?"

He sighed softly and opened his eyes, pulling her ever closer as an intense need to reassure her filled his chest. "Of course I did," he intoned quietly, sincerity lacing every contour of his voice.

"Even with all it implies?"

He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Yes, Grace."

"And you're not just saying this to shut me up so you can sleep?"

He grinned. "Well, maybe a bit."

She nudged him good-naturedly before relaxing further into his embrace. "Go on, then."

"Half an hour, I promise."

"I'll hold you to it. Close your eyes."

He obeyed her immediately and she fought back a smile at the speed of his reaction, feeling her own eyes beginning to drift closed in long-awaited contentment as she focussed on the sensation of his solid chest rising and falling in increasingly long increments beneath her cheek, the sounds of the awakening woods outside lulling her gradually into an enraptured, tranquil sleep, her soul awash with hope as she surrendered willingly to the bliss.

FIN


End file.
